


teaching finishing rinse and dancing tips

by jk_rockin



Series: Lady Hargreeves Academy for Orphan Girls [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Cunnilingus, Erotica, F/F, Frottage, Masturbation, Pining, Terrible Victorian Pornography, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21986926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jk_rockin/pseuds/jk_rockin
Summary: “What is it that cannot wait until morning?” Ben asked.“I have discovered what it is our schoolfellows are up to,” said Klaus, in a voice of great triumph. “You had wondered, had you not, at what had Diego sneaking off to Luther’s room at all hours, and had Vanya and Allison in and out of one another’s beds? Well! I have found it out.”“Was it a chill draft, as I told you it was?” asked Ben, rubbing her eyes.“Not quite,” said Klaus. With a flourish, she pulled a slim volume- a periodical, in fact- out from under her nightgown. “This explains all.”_Being Part the Third of a Serial Tale of the Student Inhabitants of Lady Hargreeves' Academy for Orphan Girls, Their Lives, and Their Exploits.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves
Series: Lady Hargreeves Academy for Orphan Girls [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1498967
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	teaching finishing rinse and dancing tips

**Author's Note:**

> At LAST, I have finished another thing. During my absence, I had a laptop die the death, had personal life stuff happen, and just got plain ol' blocked while trying to turn something out, but now, in the dizzy freedom of the week and a half I have off work for the holidays, I have FINISHED A THING. Please enjoy this smut; it is the cutesiest thing you can expect from this shamelessly self-indulgent series. Title, again, from Rasputina's 'Girl's School'.
> 
> I haven't tagged this as incest, because in this AU the kids don't consider themselves to be siblings, but sexy business does happen between characters who do consider themselves siblings in canon. If I haven't tagged for something and you wish I had, please drop a comment to let me know.
> 
> (yes, this is the artist formerly known as findyourfortunefalling.)

"Psst! Ben!"

Ben opened her eyes. Above her, silhouetted by the moonlight, was Klaus's narrow profile. She groaned, and attempted to roll over and go back go sleep, but Klaus shook her shoulder and roughly.

"Ben!" she said again. "Wake up, I have something to show you." Possibly she thought she was whispering, but to Ben's ears it seemed as loud as normal speech.

Ben groaned again. It did nothing to dissuade Klaus, and she found herself being coaxed out of her nice, warm bed, and dragged out of the dormitory and down the hall to a little-used room near the stairs. Klaus lit a lamp, and pulled Ben down onto a dusty chaise longue.

“What is it that cannot wait until morning?” Ben asked.

“I have discovered what it is our schoolfellows are up to,” said Klaus, in a voice of great triumph. “You had wondered, had you not, at what had Diego sneaking off to Luther’s room at all hours, and had Vanya and Allison in and out of one another’s beds? Well! I have found it out.”

“Was it a chill draft, as I told you it was?” asked Ben, rubbing her eyes.

“Not quite,” said Klaus. With a flourish, she pulled a slim volume- a periodical, in fact- out from under her nightgown. “This explains all.”

Ben took the periodical from Klaus’s hands. It was still warm from her body. “The Pearl,” she read aloud, leaning towards to lamp that she might see better. “A Magazine of Facetiae and Voluptuous Reading. Klaus, what is this?"

“I found it in Miss Grace’s study,” said Klaus. Her face fairly glowed with excitement. “You know I had been ordered to dust her chambers as punishment for that little matter with the algebra textbooks. Well, while I was about my business, I chanced upon a loose panel of wainscoting, beside the fireplace. It so happened that Miss Grace was obliged to leave the room to attend to something elsewhere in the house, and in the few moments I was alone, I pried it open and discovered her hidden cache.”

Ben’s thoughts immediately went to Blackbeard, and similar tales of pirates burying gold. “A hidden cache of what?”

“Books, mostly, and periodicals such as this,” said Klaus. “A few envelopes of picture postcards, though I did not get a decent look at any. When I heard Miss Grace’s footsteps without, I grabbed the first thing to hand and hid it under my pinafore, and shoved the panel back in place just in time to resume dusting the mantelpiece before she returned.”

“A daring escape,” said Ben drily. “I take it there was no gold or rubies.”

“Better,” said Klaus, opening the pages of the magazine, and holding them under Ben’s nose. “Ben, Miss Grace has dirty books hidden in her study. Look at this.”

Ben looked down at the magazine. The page to which Klaus had turned was headed, in lurid, curling script, MISS COOTE'S CONFESSION, OR, THE VOLUPTUOUS EXPERIENCES OF AN OLD MAID.

"Why, but this is merely a story of a lady's time at school," said Ben, skimming over the text below. Indeed, that was what it seemed to be; a Miss Rosa Coote's reminiscences of her time at a school run by a lady with the improbable name of Miss Flaybum. In initial detail, the school seemed much like Lady Hargreeves's- a large house in private grounds, ringed round with a fence and grazing pasture for cows and horses.

There, however, the similarities ended, for where their dormitory was- or, until lately, had been- a quiet place, Miss Coote's first evening at Miss Flaybum's establishment was not quiet at all. Eyes wide with shock, Ben turned the page, and read on.

"It is most diverting, is it not," said Klaus.

"Klaus, this story is filthy," said Ben. She was, though she could not have said why, still reading. "Girls do not really get up to such things, do they? Slapping one another on the bottom, and playing with one another's-"

"Allison and Vanya do," said Klaus. "That must be what they're up to. I feel quite sure Luther and Diego do, too. There is a pronounced list to Diego's gait whenever she returns from one of her little rendezvous in Luther's chambre privé, which could very well be explained by such activities as Miss Coote divulges."

Ben found herself to be blushing. With an attempt at coolness, she turned another page. "Miss Grace had more of these... periodicals?"

"Quite a stack," said Klaus slyly.

"You don't mean to suggest," Ben said, breaking off mid sentence, as her eyes fell on a paragraph about Miss Coote and her French governess, Mademoiselle Fosse, engaged in conduct which hardly bore thinking about. "When Allison and Vanya go to Miss Grace's office at night, do you think..."

"Do I think they're at one another with birches until sunup?" Klaus's glee was audible. Ben was not sure what she had to be so gleeful about; for herself, Ben was finding this small room very stuffy and confining, almost hot, and what she had read had left her feeling... strange. "Well, if I hadn't suspected something before, I certainly do now."

"Miss Grace is a grown woman, and a teacher," Ben said. "Surely she wouldn't. Not with _students_."

"As to that, I cannot say. Allison and Vanya make rather too much noise together afterwards for their communal activity to be anything so athletic as is detailed here,” said Klaus. “Possibly it is all birching and no frigging?”

“Klaus!” Ben exclaimed, though she was not truly shocked to hear Klaus using such language directly after reading those very words printed in a magazine. “You are quite wicked.”

“Am I, now?” said Klaus. The idea seemed to please her. “I suppose I am pretty dreadful. Exposing my innocent classmate to literature of depravity and forbidden lusts.”

It occurred to Ben that the two of them were sitting very close together. The chaise longue was of such a size that a grown woman could lie down upon it full length with no difficulty, but Klaus had pressed herself against Ben’s side to read over her shoulder, and had not chosen to draw away. Klaus was very warm against Ben, their flimsy nightgowns no barrier to Ben’s discernment of the shape of her body, nor of how their bodies fitted together. Klaus was tall and willowy where Ben was… petite, was the most polite term; occasionally this rankled, but like this, seated side by side, Klaus’s chin fitted perfectly over Ben’s shoulder, and her arm- when had she put her arm there?- fit most conveniently around Ben’s waist.

“Dreadful,” Ben echoed distantly.

“I expect to be punished thoroughly when Miss Grace finds out I have been in her things,” Klaus said. “If she has not quite worn out her rod on Allison and Vanya’s bottoms.”

A thought, an image, of Klaus bent over Miss Grace’s desk, her skirts raised, came to her, and that curious warm feeling in her stomach abruptly intensified. “If you put it back carefully, you might not be caught,” said Ben. 

“Oh, I most likely shall be caught,” said Klaus. Her tone did not betray very much concern. “I’m awfully clumsy, and prone to making noise when I oughtn’t. Don’t trouble yourself about me; perhaps I shall experience the melting, burning sensations that Miss Coote so vividly describes.”

“I could take it back,” Ben said impulsively. Leaning back, Klaus gave her a long, searching look. Ben, already blushing, felt her cheeks heat further. “I am much quieter than you are, and, if I am caught, do not have your record of past transgressions to consider- it would be a minor offense for me.”

“Well,” said Klaus, drawing out the vowel sound. “I suppose I must leave this publication in your hands for safekeeping, then.”

Ben looked down at the page open in front of her. Miss Coote had concluded her tale of dormitory excitements, and proceeded on to an account of a public punishment for impertinence. Such things did not happen at Lady Hargreeves; punishments were always conducted in private, not in front of the whole school, such as it was. For the best, probably, considering how impertinent Klaus was on a daily basis. Thinking about Klaus being whipped while all their classmates watched made her feel very funny indeed. She coughed, and closed the magazine. “Small wonder Miss Grace has not been over this with her red ink,” said Ben, as unaffectedly as she could. “Some of this grammar is appalling. The verb tenses are a mess.”

“Oh, Ben,” said Klaus. “Sometimes I wonder about you. I bring you a salacious book, and you _critique the grammar_.” She gave Ben’s waist a squeeze, so amused and affectionate that Ben had to turn her head to keep her smile to herself.

*

Ben had, she thought, put up a decent front of being unmoved by the contents of The Pearl. Klaus did not mention it the next day, nor the day after, and if she noticed Ben creeping out of the dormitory by night, she said nothing of that, either.

Really, Ben should have put it back directly, or at least the next day. Had she lacked the courage to return it to Miss Grace’s study, she could have burnt it, or tucked it away in the library, but it was not cowardice that kept her from doing so. The magazine was… compelling. She could not have said it was _good_ \- there were, beside Miss Coote’s Confession, a few more short stories and installments of serialised novels, some lurid illustrations, and some poems, all of which were pornographic in the extreme, if of somewhat varied quality. The poetry, in particular, was abominable. The lack of technical skill on the part of the writers did not stop her from reading it, however, and reading it over again.

There was something about that school story, in particular, that made it stick in her mind. A number of different details caught at her imagination: the free, open nudity between the classmates; the birching and slapping of bottoms; Rosa and her French governess rubbing at one another. It was filthy, of course, entirely improper reading material for a young lady, and Ben could not put it out of her mind for even a minute at a time.

Even more distracting than the thoughts elicited by the story, however, were the thoughts about what Klaus had said regarding what it was keeping their classmates out of bed- or, indeed, in each other's beds. Even when she regained enough control over herself to leave the magazine hidden in the back of her nightstand instead of sneaking off to read it each night, every rustle of bedclothes or sleepy exhalation from her classmates inspired riotous thoughts of what they might be up to.

One day, almost a week after Klaus introduced this new concern to Ben's life, Diego and Luther got into one of their quarrels- Ben has no idea what over- which resulted in Diego being obliged to report to Luther's room after dinner. On returning to the dormitory, Ben was so restless she could hardly unbutton her dress without her hands shaking. She lay in bed for a long time, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Having no clock, Ben couldn't be certain how long it was, but it seemed at least an hour before the door opened, and Diego crept into the room. Just as Klaus had pointed out, she walked with an odd little hitch in her step. Ben watched as Diego undressed, her movements languid. It was too dark to see if her body was marked in any way, but she did not miss Diego's sharp intake of breath when she sat down upon her bed, nor how she immediately rolled onto her side once under the covers.

Ben longed to ask her what she and Luther had done together that would leave her so sensitive. Her imagination supplied a bevy of possibilities, all jumbled together, both of punishment and of pleasure. Lying in the dark, she pictured Diego in a dozen different positions, Luther wielding a dozen different implements, and each permutation of the imagined scene sent a pulse of heat to that place between her legs that Miss Coote had described in such vague yet intriguing terms.

Soon, Diego’s breathing fell into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. Everyone was now asleep except Ben, and even so, she held her breath in apprehension as she slipped a hand beneath the covers, rucked up her nightdress, and gave her privates an exploratory stroke. It felt… pleasant, certainly. Unlike Mademoiselle Fosse and the girls of Miss Flaybum’s, she had very little hair there, and when she touched her fingers to herself, it felt hot and slippery and odd, but odd in a way that made her want more of it.

Miss Coote had mentioned the rubbing of a special spot. It did not take Ben long to find it; a little nub tucked inside near the top of the slit. She had known it was there, of course, but rubbing at it intentionally felt even more pleasant, and even more odd. Long, slow strokes of it made her belly feel warm; shorter, faster ones made her toes curl, and both made her feel as though something were building within her. In the story, they called the crisis of this activity spending. Would it be like that, Ben wondered? Would the feeling growing in her all rush out at once?

In the bed opposite, Klaus gave a great snore, and rolled over in bed. The sound brought Ben back to herself, like a splash of cold water on her face. What was she doing? She was hardly alone- five other girls slept in the beds around her, and might wake up at any moment. Klaus might be right in thinking that the others had been doing such things themselves, but the thought of discovery made her warm glow of pleasure retreat all at once.

This was foolishness. She wiped her moist fingers on her nightgown, and brought her hands out above the bedclothes, pressing them down and pinning herself to the bed with the duvet. Until the magazine, she would never have even considered doing anything of the kind, and she ought to know better. She resolved to sleep, to return The Pearl as soon as she could, and to put the whole affair out of her mind.

It took her a very long time to fall asleep.

*

Under normal circumstances, Ben's resolutions, once made, were kept. She had resolved to top the class in Latin, and had done it; she had resolved to stop letting Five forget mealtimes in favour of study, and had had much success in doing so, though she was still prone to hiding a textbook under the table while she ate. What made the difference now, she was not sure, but she could not bring herself to abandon The Pearl. She had no need to read it, now- she could practically recite the story from memory, though she could not imagine a situation in which she could do so without being arrested- but she had not put it back where it belonged.

And she could not control her thoughts, which was terrible. Rather than easing with time, it seemed her depravity had only deepened. Everywhere she looked, everything she encountered, brought feverish ideas of debauchery to her mind. She could hardly look at any of her classmates without picturing them locked in carnal embraces; with herself, with each other, and sometimes both. Even Miss Grace, who she had always thought uncommonly pretty, she now regarded in an entirely changed light. It occurred to her that she and Miss Grace shared something of a secret. The thought of what other books- what continuations and antecedents of stories like Miss Coote's- she might have hidden away made Ben quite dizzy.

The worst of it was Klaus. Before the revelations of the other girls' activity, Klaus would have been the last word in debauchery at Lady Hargreeves, having been indiscreet with one or two of the stable hands, though Ben knew not to what degree. She had been punished for it, when she had been caught, but not expelled, so perhaps it had only been flirting or maybe kissing, but not knowing made Ben hesitate to speak. Klaus had, also, always made rather free with Ben's person- leaning on her shoulder, catching her about the waist to murmur a joke into her ear- and she had not stopped doing so. Her touches had always made Ben blush and giggle, out of what she had thought of as almost sisterly affection, but now they sent sparks through Ben that were not sisterly at all.

During the day, she could control herself, but sleep gave her no respite. In her dreams, she had Klaus, and was had by Klaus, in every wanton manner her imagination could conceive. She dreamed of kissing her soft mouth. Of touching her naked body, her intimate places, and of Klaus touching her, kissing her, holding her in her arms. And the other sports, of course; birching and flogging, yes, but chiefly spanking, and being spanked. Ben had always been well behaved, and had never been hit in punishment, but in her nightly reveries she _begged_ Klaus for it, shameless as she never was awake, and woke aching and damp more often than not, mouth still shaping her pleas for more.

Klaus couldn't know. Ben was a quiet sleeper, not prone to talking or tossing and turning. There was no way for Klaus to know what Ben dreamed of, but the sweet, conspiratorial smile she turned Ben's way each morning as they dressed before breakfast still made Ben wonder how much of what went on in her mind was evident from her manner and expression.

Still, Klaus said nothing. Oh, she chattered a good deal about inconsequential nonsense, and said shocking things to everyone as a matter of course, but she said nothing of Ben's glances, or Ben's blushes. She had not asked what had happened to Miss Grace's magazine. In this, if in nothing else, she was discreet.

It was possible they might have carried on in that way indefinitely- Klaus mercurial and ridiculous, Ben irresolute and tortured by her own wickedness- but that was not to be. Not very long after Diego's last rendezvous with Luther, there was an incident on the way home from Sunday church. It had been raining, not hard but steadily, and the path from the road down to the school gates was dotted with muddy puddles. Nobody was quite sure how it began, but someone tripped Diego. She did not fall, but nevertheless elected to exact revenge upon the nearest girl to hand- Vanya, as it happened- by dunking her into one such puddle. Vanya had squealed, clutching at Allison, with whom she had been walking, and the two had tumbled down together. In the ensuing confusion, Allison had caught Diego about the ankle and smeared wet mud all over her pinafore, and then Luther had involved herself and gotten a clod of dirt in the eye for her trouble.

There had, in short, been much unbecoming yelling and splashing about. Ben and Klaus, who had been bringing up the rear of the party, and Five, with her knack for vanishing as soon as any trouble started, had escaped the skirmish, but all the others had been subjected to a severe dressing-down by Miss Grace and Miss Patch, and had punishments arranged for them accordingly.

After dinner, which had been an uncharacteristically solemn affair, Vanya and Allison went off to Miss Grace's study, and Luther and Diego to Luther's private room. Five had, as she sometimes did, crept off to do… whatever it was she did when she crept off by herself, and Klaus and Ben found themselves alone in the dormitory.

Ben's hands trembled as she undressed. Her thoughts whirled with what might be occurring in the house that night. Scenes conjured from the pages of The Pearl swam before her mind's eye, with her classmates filling the roles of the principal players. Luther was to punish Diego, and Miss Grace would surely be whipping Allison and Vanya- or did she perhaps have them whip one another while she watched, and gave instruction? In the story, the girls had rounded on their governess and given her a punishment, too. Would Miss Grace allow that?

Klaus lit the lamp beside her bed, and turned. "You seem distracted," she said, in a low voice. "Are you quite well?"

Ben coughed, surprised, halfway into her nightgown. She had averted her eyes as Klaus dressed for bed, as she had begun to do when her thoughts about Klaus had, so abruptly, changed, and the sight of her in her nightgown, looking back at Ben in the soft glow of the lamp, made her feel funny again. "Quite well," she said, pulling her dress into place. “And- and you? You are well also?”

Klaus laughed. She had a rather silly laugh, high and prone to devolving into snorting, and it was a relief to hear after so much distraction and confusion. She came over to Ben, and, taking her hand, sat them both down on Ben’s bed, pressed together from hip to shoulder. “You funny thing,” she said. She did not let go of Ben’s hand, but kept it on her lap, folded between both of hers. “You and I have known one another all our lives, and you inquire after my health like a maiden aunt at a tea party. Yes, I am quite well, thank you.” She dipped her head in an affectedly gracious little bow, pursing her lips to keep from laughing again.

Ben bit back a laugh of her own, and squeezed Klaus’s hands in return. “I am sorry,” she said. “I have indeed been… distracted, of late, and, I fear, not the most spirited company.”

“What is it that distracts you?” asked Klaus. “Nothing is wrong, I trust?”

“No, of course not,” said Ben, but that wasn’t quite true. Klaus’s fingers intertwined with hers, slender and a little cold, had set off another barrage of thoughts about what they might feel like touching more intimate zones, and that, surely, was wrong. “It is just… oh, never mind. It is nothing.”

“Ben, it is clearly not nothing,” said Klaus, and sighed. When she spoke again, it was in a strange tone which attempted, but did not achieve, nonchalance. “I had thought, perhaps, that I had shocked you, with the magazine. That your opinion of me might have… changed. You know I am a dreadful reprobate, but-"

"You're not a reprobate," Ben chided her.

"That is not the commonly held opinion," said Klaus. "The way you look at me now, I find it hard to credit that your esteem of me is in no way altered."

Ben bit her lip. She did not like to lie, but to tell Klaus the unvarnished truth might well spoil their friendship. She looked up from their joined hands and into Klaus's face, and the disconsolate, resigned expression she saw there spurred her into honesty. "It is altered," she said. Klaus drew in a breath, but before she could speak, Ben continued. "The things I read-”

“Put them from your mind, I beg you,” said Klaus, hurriedly.

“Klaus, I cannot,” said Ben in exasperation. “Please, listen. I have tried, I assure you, to put the contents of The Pearl from my mind, but I cannot.” Her cheeks heated, but she forced herself to keep her chin up. She swallowed. "The story you showed me affected me very much. It… excited me, and I have thought of it often. I find I think of little else. If that alters _your_ esteem of _me_ , then I am sorry for it, but that is the truth."

Klaus stared at her, eyes wide and astonished. "Excited you," she said blankly. "When I read that story, I thought the top of my head would come clean off, but when I showed it to you, you seemed so calm. I thought, well, perhaps that was how a decent girl reacts to dirty books. Perhaps you were the only girl in the place not plagued by lust for the fairer sex."

Ben laughed again. "Seven girls, and Lady Hargreeves manages to secure a matched set of depraved inverts. Although I suppose Five might not be."

"Hard to say," agreed Klaus. She ducked her head, and cast a coquettish glance at Ben through her eyelashes, somewhat hampered by their difference in height. "But you would count yourself, then? As a depraved invert?"

"Klaus, I have been imagining you nude and writhing under the lash every moment of the day since I read that story, and for a considerable amount of the night, as well." Ben took a moment to savour the heat that flared in Klaus's eyes, and released her hands in order to cup her chin and draw her close. "The case for my depravity is clear. My inversion, however, I should like very much to put to the test."

When she leaned in to kiss Klaus’s surprised mouth, it did not go quite as smoothly as she had hoped- Klaus jumped as their lips touched, and their teeth clicked together, and there was rather more stifled giggling than she had imagined- but that awkward first kiss melted into another much nicer one, and that into another, until Ben's head spun from them. Klaus had wasted no time in twining her arms about Ben's neck and leaning over Ben to press their bodies together, and her mouth opened so obligingly under Ben’s that Ben could not help but let their tongues brush, turning their kisses deeper and wetter. Klaus’s lithe body was tense under Ben's hands, and she gave a sweet little moan when Ben pulled away from her mouth to press further kisses to her throat and her shoulder. "How on earth did you learn to kiss like that," she said in a dazed voice, tilting her head back to allow Ben better access. "The stable boys don't kiss like that. They're all spitty."

The sting of jealousy was somewhat soothed by how evidently Ben's kisses affected her, and she controlled herself so far as to nip, rather than to bite, at Klaus's collarbone. "Extensive reading is said to broaden the mind," Ben said, and nipped her again, relishing the sounds Klaus made.

"I should have stolen the whole stack of books for you," Klaus said.

"There was quite enough inspiration to be going on with in one volume." Ben found that her hands had slipped down from Klaus's waist, and had begun to toy with the hem of her nightgown.

Klaus untangled them sufficiently to reach down and yank at the offending garment, nearly tearing it in her hurry to get it off. With Ben's assistance, she got it over her shoulders, and flung it unceremoniously away from her, leaving her pale and slender as a moonbeam in the low light of the lamp.

Ben stared at her. It was not that she had not believed that Klaus returned her affections- Klaus certainly kissed as though she were sincere- but her unhesitating willingness to show herself to Ben was thrilling. Klaus tilted her shoulders, posing after the fashion of a Grecian nude, and Ben could not help but to push her down onto the bed and kiss her again.

Klaus was not so soft to lie upon as Ben had imagined another girl would be, being rather more bony than the round-limbed beauties in the magazine, but she was lovely, and she wriggled under Ben in the most delicious way. Touching her felt wicked, and wonderfully so. Ben could hardly keep her hands still; she wanted to cup Klaus's sweet little breasts and pinch their pale pink nipples, and smooth her palms over Klaus's waist, and run her hands up her thighs, one after another and all at once, but she had, beyond these delights, another goal in mind on which she had thought at length.

"May I touch you- here?" she asked Klaus, trailing her fingers up Klaus's inner thigh.

"You may touch me wherever you please," said Klaus giddily. "Especially if you please to touch me there."

Rallying her courage, Ben lay beside Klaus, propped up on her side, and spread her hand over the tuft of curling brown hair at the apex of Klaus's legs. It was very fine and soft, and moistened with that same slippery fluid with which Ben had recently become so familiar. Klaus sighed and clutched at her arm when she probed delicately at the slit, feeling how wet she was, and how much warmer here.

It was not so very different to touching herself. Knowing that it was someone else’s flesh under her fingertips- that it was Klaus she was touching like this- made a significant difference to how it made Ben feel to do it, and where Ben had lain very still and tried not to move or make noise, Klaus felt no such compunction. Under Ben’s ministrations she bucked and panted and whined for more, and Ben obliged her. She found the special little nub of flesh at the top of her slit immediately, and rubbed at it with her thumb as her forefinger and middle finger explored the slick, soft folds below, experimenting with what made Klaus react most favourably. It seemed hardly any time at all before Klaus was crying out and stiffening beneath her.

“A whole _library_ full of magazines,” Klaus said nonsensically, reaching up to drag Ben in for more kisses. “Although you hardly need the help, you wicked thing. Your hands are _wonderful_.”

“Better than the stable boys?” said Ben, before she could stop herself.

“What?” Klaus said, blinking up at her.

“Nothing,” said Ben quickly, leaning in to kiss her again.

Klaus held her back with a hand on her shoulder. “It is not nothing. What are you talking about?”

Ben swallowed and looked away. With Klaus so close, there was very little away at which to look, so she fixed her eyes on her pillow, which, disturbed by Klaus’s wrigglings in the throes of lust, now tipped precariously towards falling off the bed. “I know I am inexperienced. No doubt the stable boys with whom you have... dallied, are more- more worldly than I-”

“Dallied,” said Klaus. “Ben. With all possible affection, you are ridiculous.”

Ben’s heart plummeted. She sat up, smoothing her nightgown over her knees. “I am sorry,” she said stiffly. “I did not mean to offend.”

“No, Ben, listen,” said Klaus, laying a hand on Ben’s thigh. “I did not mean it as it sounded. I only meant- will you look at me, please?”

It took some effort, but Ben turned her head, and did as Klaus asked. Klaus’s expression was uncharacteristically solemn, but with the low light playing off the shape of her naked body, it took rather more effort again to keep her eyes on Klaus’s face.

“I meant that it was ridiculous for you to compare yourself with the stable boys, because I have never done anything like this with a stable boy,” said Klaus. “I admit I have flirted with, and, on two occasions, kissed boys. Once, to see what it was like- primarily, wet- and once on the promise of a piece of Turkish delight.” She paused, looking at Ben as though trying to gauge her reaction. “It was rose-flavoured.”

“Oh,” said Ben, weakly.

“You do not have to offer me sweets in exchange for kisses,” said Klaus. “Although if you do have some Turkish delight to hand-”

Ben hit her with the pillow. Klaus shrieked, and started to laugh, a peal of undignified giggles that made Ben start laughing too. She was still laughing when Klaus kissed her again, and allowed herself to be rolled onto her back. Klaus’s bony knees squeezed her thighs, the long, cool weight of her body sliding downward as she abandoned Ben’s mouth in favour of her neck and shoulder, and then kept sliding, moving backwards until Klaus was on her knees on the floor.

“What are you doing?” asked Ben, propping herself up on her elbows.

“Proving that I, too, read Miss Coote’s Confession, and was inspired by it,” said Klaus, sliding her hands beneath Ben’s nightgown. Ben watched, rapt, as Klaus rucked the fabric up her thighs and over her belly, leaving her bare from the waist down, and put her hands on Ben’s knees, gently pressing her legs apart.

“Are you,” Ben started to say, then stopped. She could feel Klaus’s warm, shallow breath on the soft hairs of her pubis.

“I am,” said Klaus, and she parted the lips of Ben’s sex, and licked her.

Ben’s elbows wobbled. Klaus licked her again, more boldly, and again, tongue flickering over Ben’s inner folds and circling that special nub. It felt strange, and wet, and wonderful, and as it went on it felt better and better, until Ben’s elbows wobbled so much that she could no longer keep herself up on them. “Oh,” she said, “Klaus, you- oh, Klaus, please.”

Klaus did not reply, but kept licking her, growing in confidence and delving deeper. The difference in sensations between the touch of her own fingers and the ministrations of Klaus’s mouth was startling. The texture, and the warmth, of course, but more than anything else it was not knowing what she would do next, how fast or slow she would touch her, that sent the heat spiralling up through Ben’s spine. Ben found it necessary, as the pleasure built, to shove her own fingers into her mouth to prevent herself from letting out unseemly noises, but they leaked out regardless, and they seemed to spur Klaus on; she had commenced with her hands placed decorously on Ben’s thighs, but her hands had migrated beneath them, and curled upwards to pull Ben toward her. _Klaus_ made noises, too, quiet moans that vibrated against Ben’s flesh and made her hips buck.

It seemed as though Klaus’s tongue was everywhere- swirling over that spot that throbbed so insistently, lapping at the folds inside, teasing at her entrance. Experimenting, as Ben had, and Ben tried to be demonstrative, though keeping track of what felt best was challenging when everything felt so good. Then, of all things, Klaus pointed her tongue and slid it _inside_ her, and Ben could not help but wrench her fingers from her mouth to clutch at Klaus’s hair.

Klaus wriggled her tongue, and a whining sound came from Ben’s throat, high and desperate. After a few more moments of bliss, Klaus withdrew, massaging her jaw. “I cannot keep that up very long,” she said, dropping an apologetic kiss on Ben’s thigh. “In the story, they did it with their fingers- should you like that, do you think?”

In the story, Miss Coote and Mademoiselle Fosse had done this to each other at the same time, which Ben could hardly believe. How could one concentrate on performing such a task when having it done to one was so affecting? “I rather think I should,” said Ben to the ceiling.

“We can but try,” said Klaus gravely. Removing her right arm from where it embraced Ben’s posterior, she brought her hand to her mouth and licked her fingers. Ben was so wet already, and Klaus’s fingers so slim, that her forefinger slipped into Ben with no trouble at all. It was… strange; thinner and less flexible than Klaus’s tongue, but longer, and when Klaus pumped it in and out of her, she could not quite tell if she liked it, but she wanted more of it regardless.

“Could you put in another one?” she said, breathless.

“Yes,” said Klaus. “You feel lovely inside, you know. All slippery and tight.” Before Ben had time to react to this outlandish statement, Klaus had insinuated a second finger into Ben, and was thrusting them in and out together. Something about the feeling made Ben spread her legs wider, and she found herself digging her heels into Klaus’s back, trying to bring her closer. With a happy little laugh, Klaus dipped her head and tongued at Ben again, lapping at her while her fingers moved, and that was almost too wonderful to be happening all at once.

Those sounds were coming out of Ben again, rising in pitch and volume, and her fingers had gone back to Klaus’s hair, not pushing or tugging but merely holding on for dear life. That growing, tingling feeling was back and getting hotter, driving Ben towards an as yet unknown precipice.

“Klaus,” she said, in a voice more desperate than any she had ever heard from her own lips. “Klaus, Klaus, I’m going to, I’m-”

In response, Klaus drew that bud of flesh into her mouth and suckled upon it, and her fingers curled forward as though beckoning Ben closer, and that swelling heat within Ben seemed to peak all at once, spreading hot and shivery through her whole body. She grabbed, blindly, for the pillow, and clamped it over her face to contain the wail of ecstasy that she could not otherwise control. Klaus did not relent in the motions of her fingers or of her mouth, wracking Ben’s body with shudder upon shudder of pleasure, until she could stand no more and pushed her away with trembling hands.

It took her a moment to come back to herself. When she took the pillow from her face, it was damp with saliva and tears. Between her legs, Klaus leaned her cheek against Ben's thigh, breathing heavily, and the movement of air drew Ben's attention to how very wet everything was down there, too- far wetter than she had been before. Under her buttocks, her nightgown was sticking to her. Surely she had not wet herself?

"Oh, Ben," Klaus said, sweet and admiring. She had withdrawn her fingers, and came up on her knees to clamber onto the bed and sit astride Ben's thighs. Ben could feel Klaus's sex pressed against her leg, sticky and warm; despite her having only just spent, the feeling of it sparked heat in her belly all over again. "I wish you could see yourself in the throes of passion. You are quite enchanting."

It seemed ridiculous that she could blush, now, but she did regardless. "You only say such things to fluster me," asked Ben. 

"Flustering you is one of my few joys. You would not wish to rob me of that, would you?” said Klaus. She rocked her hips, rubbing herself against Ben's thigh with a sweet shamelessness that stirred Ben even further. 

“Perhaps there are other joys with which I can divert you,” said Ben. Her hands came up to caress Klaus’s waist, marvelling, a little, at the sight of her, and the look in her eyes as she moved.

“Your joys are considerable,” Klaus said lightly. She, too, moved her hands, sliding them up Ben’s sides to rest over her ribs. They were still moist with Ben’s spending, and she blushed more deeply to feel it, but made to move to stop her. Her thumbs brushed the undersides of Ben’s breasts, and Ben arched into it, encouraging Klaus to touch her further. For all the activity they had engaged in, they had spent very little time simply exploring one another, which now seemed a serious oversight, and one Klaus was evidently eager to correct. Following Ben’s none too subtle hint, Klaus cupped Ben’s breasts in her hands, and squeezed them gently, fingers fluttering maddeningly over her nipples.

Ben moaned again, and reached up to touch Klaus as Klaus was touching her. It seemed almost silly for such a comparatively innocent touch to feel so good, but Ben had long since ceased caring what was silly and what was not. She pinched gently at Klaus's nipples, then, when Klaus sighed, pinched them harder, until she was rolling them between her fingertips in rhythm with the motion of Klaus's hips.

With a wordless cry of pleasure, Klaus pitched forward, seizing at Ben's waist and mouthing at her breasts. The velvet touch of her tongue on Ben's nipples was another thrilling shock, and she clutched Klaus firmly to her, grinding her thigh up between Klaus's legs. Klaus suckled at Ben's nipple as she had upon her innermost parts, and whined, thrusting jerkily, as slick warmth spread from her sex to smear upon Ben’s leg.

Shivering as though from cold, Klaus lifted her head from Ben’s bosom, and kissed her once more, this time very softly. Their lips met, parted, and met again, mere gentle brushes compared to their earlier deeper kisses, but sweeter, and somehow more affecting. She gazed up at Klaus, and wished she had more witty banter to exchange with her, but her heart was too full for their usual quips.

The sound of footsteps came from outside the door. With a muffled curse, Klaus scrambled off of Ben and hunted about for her nightgown, so thoughtlessly tossed aside. Ben tried, vainly, to rearrange her bedclothes into respectability, and had just managed to slide under the dampened covers when the door opened. She watched, eyes squinted in feigned sleep, as Klaus hastily blew out her lamp and pulled her own covers over her head, just as Allison and Vanya entered the room.

Never in their lives had either Allison or Vanya taken so long about undressing or getting into bed. It seemed hours passed before they, too, were extinguishing their lamps and settling under the covers, during which Ben was wracked with terrible anxiety and no short measure of frustrated lust. By comparison, it felt like only seconds after she heard both girls’ breathing relax into the slower patterns of sleep that Klaus slipped out of her bed and crept across to her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“Of course I am not asleep,” Ben murmured before Klaus could speak.

“I should hope not,” said Klaus, pushing back the covers. “I have spent twice tonight, and you only once- I have a deficit to make up.”

“That chamber with the chaise longue is in the opposite direction to Luther’s room,” Ben whispered as they crossed the dormitory on tiptoe. “We had best be quick, though.”

“I have no intention of being quick,” said Klaus, pulling the door closed behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> The Pearl is a real magazine, and the story- chapter four of Miss Coote's Confession- is all too terribly real. You can read it [here on WikiSource](https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Pearl/Volume_4), though warnings apply for dubious consent (at best), underage sex, teacher/student sex, frankly unnecessary amounts of corporal punishment, and use of the word "pussey", which isn't a crime, though I wish it was. Other parts and other issues of The Pearl contain... uh, pretty much anything you can think of, so tread carefully.


End file.
